Misfits and Lost Engines
by 427Arbok
Summary: The journey and struggle of a band of miscreant tanks, having met by chance or luck, who must bond and help one another to have any hope of survival in a very competitive world. Starting, of course, with the meeting of two tanks, who will ultimately become the founding members of an ever expanding team.


**Author's Note(s): Hey, look! I actually wrote something for once! This might not happen again, but I'll try!**

**Also, of course, this is my first story, so go easy, will you? **

**As for the rating, it may or may not be accurate and is subject to change depending on how much I swear. Lastly, by the way, writing with an accent is hard...**

**Oh, wait, one more thing, this story was, in part, inspired by a story by autophagy, and hence may contain similarities and references to his work.**

* * *

It was official now: she was lost. Really lost. The Matilda II was a week out of the base, and with limited fuel, and she had gotten completely lost. She was so used to having lighter allies showing her the paths, she had lost her own sense of direction, and without them, or any friendlies, for that matter. She still couldn't believe they kicked her out. Slow, was she? _Could those morons even SPELL slow? Well, Hell, if they're signing their own bloody death warrants, I'd best let them_, she thought, hollowly, to herself. At this point she was trying desperately to assure herself, but it wasn't working. It never worked. She knew that, even with her armor, she had no chance alone, just as well as her former comrades did. _It's amazing what loads of utter horse shit can happen when the commanding officer doesn't come back from—_

She stopped dead. Something moved. She hadn't seen it, but she could hear it just fine. It was a tank, she had no doubt, but probably a small one; she could hear a small engine idle. There was little chance she had gone undetected, at this point, so she would have to try and bluff him.

"I've got three tank destroyers a half mile out," she yelled, giving her best attempt at sounding confident, but she was shaking in her tracks. "Unless you want to end up looking like a burnt scone, stand down."

"Well, if a show's on," came a voice from behind her, "Then it seems I have, how you say, ze best seat in ze house." She turned her turret, unsteadily, backwards, as every ounce of her stiff upper lip faded, to see a T-80 light, gun zeroed in on her engine. She did the only thing she could. Bringing her turret to a halt and letting her gun go slack, she cried, almost squealed, "I'm sorry! I surrender! Please! Mercy!" Cleaning fluid was pouring from her optics.

* * *

_So she was alone…_ The T-80 was rather taken aback by all this. He had been trailing her for a while now, wondering, but now he knew. However, he never expected her to break down like this. Quickly, he took his gun off her and tried speaking to her, "Calm, calm, please, I do not mean you any harm."

She sniffled, looked up, almost childlike, and asked, "Really?"

"No, no, none at all, comrade. I did not know you meant me none." This didn't help too much, so he got up close to her and almost whispered, "Please, do not cry, I hate to see lady tank crying." _Especially pretty lady tanks like you_, he wanted to say, but now was no time.

At this point, he had snuggled up beside her, desperately trying to calm her, and asked, "What is problem? Please, you can tell me." He knew it had to be severe for this sort of thing, Brits never did this, he'd even seen Cruisers staring down KV-1S's, so how could this be?

"My… My team… They… They…" She was choking up, so he tried to wipe some of her optics with his barrel, "They kicked me out… Last week, our commander… He didn't come back from battle… A new group took his place… They said they didn't need my fat ass around… That I was just… Slowing them down…" She broke down crying again, so he began to coo "There, there, is alright, is alright…" until she was stable.

"Is late. You need fuel, yes? I have a stock in my camp. I welcome you to it. I am alone too, you see. No team. Never joined one." He, at this point just wanted her to get a nights sleep, in the hope she'd be better by the morrow.

"No… No, I couldn't ask you to do that for me… I'm not worth it." She was less hysterical, now, but her will was no less broken. He knew he'd fucked up big time, but was glad to see the improvements.

"You do not ask, I do. Is not matter of how good you are, you get better, yes? Besides, you are the only tank I see in months who might help me. I need you, like you need me. We become like small team, yes?"

"O-okay, but… I'll only slow you down…"

"Nonsense, comrade. Come, I have a camp set up a short way ahead, you can rest and refuel there, with me." He was hoping a night's sleep would help her get back in order.

"I'm not worth it, I'm telling you."

"I disagree. This way, come," he paused for a moment. "I forgot introductions, how rude of me. My name is Ivan, yours?" He was straining his English, hoping she'd feel more at home.

"Clara…" She looked up to his optics and muttered a faint, "Thank you…"

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**Well, there's Chapter 1. I'll continue. Eventually... Kinda funny how I had originally intended to do a Monster Hunter fic as my first story when I made this account, but I guess it was not to be. Anyways, by all means, reveiw, follow, favorite, or... Um... I don't know what else I was going to say there... O7, perhaps?**


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